A Goodbye That Came Too Soon: Remembering Mosis

Today, I said goodbye to my best friend.
Mosis crossed the rainbow bridge this morning, and the world feels heavier without him in it.

The house is still now—too still. No jingling collar. No eager paws at the door. No gentle nudge on my hand, asking for one more cuddle.

It’s amazing how one soul, so small and silent, could fill every corner of a home with warmth. And now that he’s gone, the quiet echoes.

Mosis wasn’t just a pet. He was comfort on hard days, laughter in the little moments, and a steady, loving presence in a world that can be so unpredictable.

He knew when I was sad. He celebrated when I was happy. He asked for nothing but gave everything—loyalty, trust, joy, and an unconditional love I’ll never forget.

I keep expecting to hear his paws on the floor or feel the weight of him curled by my feet. But all I feel is the space he’s left behind.

Still, I remind myself: he isn’t truly gone.

He lives in the fur still clinging to the blanket.
In the favorite toy left untouched.
In the thousands of memories stitched into my heart.

Mosis gave me more love than I ever knew I needed.
He taught me how to slow down, to be present, and to love without conditions.

Sleep peacefully, my sweet boy. You were so good, so loved, and so incredibly brave.

Until we meet again, may you run free in endless fields, chase butterflies, and nap in the sun.

Thank you for every single moment. I will carry you with me always.